


A Bed Of Hydrangea And A Gift Of Zinnia

by Starthewolf1106



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Graphic depictions of violence - Freeform, Major Character Injury, Major character death - Freeform, Sad Ending, Short, Small fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:26:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23222470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starthewolf1106/pseuds/Starthewolf1106
Summary: Hydrangea - Hydrangeas symbolize heartfelt emotions for the people you love including your spouse, children and family. This flower represents unity and togethernessZinnia - Zinnias are for remembering a special friend or someone who is no longer with you, and is a flower that reminds you of your fond memories and pays respect to who they were. A bouquet of zinnias is the perfect way to remember them and honor their memory. Striped and mixed zinnias are closely tied to remembrance of friendshttps://www.proflowers.com/blog/which-flowers-mean-love(Source)
Kudos: 7





	A Bed Of Hydrangea And A Gift Of Zinnia

**Author's Note:**

> Hydrangea - Hydrangeas symbolize heartfelt emotions for the people you love including your spouse, children and family. This flower represents unity and togetherness  
> Zinnia - Zinnias are for remembering a special friend or someone who is no longer with you, and is a flower that reminds you of your fond memories and pays respect to who they were. A bouquet of zinnias is the perfect way to remember them and honor their memory. Striped and mixed zinnias are closely tied to remembrance of friends
> 
> https://www.proflowers.com/blog/which-flowers-mean-love
> 
> (Source)

_Danger_ , his spider-sense screamed at him. Turning his head towards the source, the screams reached his ears. His friends were in danger. Leaping off of the building he was perched on, he swung towards the source as fast as he could. 

_There._

A seemingly abandoned port, the swollen waves of the Hudson angrily sweeping over decades old wood. Each window was clouded with dust and he landed on the roof with a thud. The stained oak moaned and creaked beneath his feet as he sprinted towards the moonlit silhouette standing over four bodies. His gut twisted and, for a second, he feared he was too late. Then, Sam let out a groan, and his dread was replaced with relief, then rage. The figure was reaching down to take off Sam's helmet, and Peter didn't hesitate to launch himself at the crouching enemy with his full strength. _Nobody_ hurt his friends.

The man, who now revealed himself as alien, grunted in surprise, before turning his attention to the new foe in between him and his trophy.

Fierce, protective fury surged through him. He had no doubt that this man/alien/thing would no doubt kill his friends for the precious helmet. Snarling, he threw himself at the man, only to be thrown off with shocking strength. Pain rippled through him as he was flung into a wall with a sickening _crunch._

Stumbling to his feet, he charged at the man again. Annoyed by the persistent flurry of attacks, the alien turned his full attention to his red-and-blue adversary. Ducking, dodging and weaving, Peter circled around his enemy, lashing out violently with ferocious speed. This alien was much bigger than him, but Peter was faster. Rage dulled his pain and fueled his power. He only saw red, and he was unsure if that was because he was bleeding or if he was overwhelmed with fury. Attack after attack, with only the occasional blow from his opponent to hinder him. He was focused on his opponent, and nothing else. In a world of magic, powers and secrets he was only sure of one thing - and that was to fight. Fight, or die. Fight, or let your friends die. Fight, or let your _family_ die. He was unaware of his broken bones and bloodied body, only knowing of the foe in front of him and the four friends behind him.

The alien, injured and exhausted from its fight with the young hero, threw one last punch and fled. 

The feeling of victory mixed with the adrenaline pumping through his veins, forming a concoction of pride. Stumbling over to his friends, his adrenaline crashing, he checked their vitals. Then, satisfied, he collapsed and let the rapidly encroaching darkness enfold him.

* * *

Slowly drifting into consciousness was harder than it looked. Sam knew that the hard way from his past experiences of being a hero. He also knew what to expect. First, the steady beeping and whirring of machines. Then, the feeling of the scratchy blankets and uncomfortable bandages. Finally, opening his bleary eyes, being blinded by the harsh florescent lights, and being welcomed back by the worried look of Peter. What was different this time, however, was that the last part was missing. Where was the protective so-called mother hen of the team? He was _always_ there, even when he was wrapped in his own bandages, his own body equally damaged by whatever threat they had faced together. 

Groaning, Sam slowly got to his feet, concerned. Nobody stopped him, which was odd. Usually there were at least some medical staff nearby, but they weren't here now. Stumbling through the winding yet familiar corridors, he located Ava, Danny, and Luke, all in various states of consciousness. Ava was seemingly drugged (probably some heavy painkillers - poor girl), Danny was half conscious and probably concussed, and Luke was still unconscious.

Sam's frown deepened as he continued his search for their so-called leader.

After about half-an-hour of searching, Connors approached him, dark bags under his eyes. Had he been crying? It sure looked like it. 

"Sam." Connors said, simply. His voice was tired and his eyes dull. Dread filled Sam's gut. He knew what that look meant, he had seen it on the faces of many different medics throughout the years. The face of 'I'm so sorry' and 'He's gone' and 'There was nothing we could do'. Surely, it wasn't true. Surely, he couldn't be gone. But, as Connors motioned to a nearby chair and wiped what Sam now recognized as Peter's cobalt-blue blood, he knew what Connors was about to say.

"You're going to want to sit down for this..."

**Author's Note:**

> Just a small mini-fic. Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
